A million buckaroos for this sale!
Genre: Thriller/Mystery
Premise: An out-of-work American actor takes a mysterious acting job in Korea where he’s paid to perform increasingly violent scenes with actors he’s forbidden from meeting beforehand.
About: This is that big Lord & Miller Steven Yeun collaboration short story that sold for a million bucks to Netflix. The writer, Nicholas Binge, is a sci-fi and horror author. He has a book of his, Dissolution, set up at Sony with Eric Heisserer (Arrival) adapting. (correction: below I say this is a movie. It’s a series)
Writer: Nicholas Binge
Details: 22 pages
You’re probably wondering, “Wait, you mean these short story things are still selling?? But none of them are being made into movies except for that disastrous action film, ‘Love Hurts.’”
You know what they say. “If it’s broke, don’t fix it.” Pretty sure that’s how the saying goes, anyway.
Cal Morrow is a 31 year old actor in London trying to make ends meet. He’s a good actor but not good enough to get consistent work. Even his agent, who was once his biggest cheerleader, is struggling to be supportive these days. How can you be supportive when your actor doesn’t work? And no, Sunday Shakespeare at the park doesn’t count.
But Cal runs into an old acting friend who tells him about this job she did in Korea that changed her life. She’s short on details but gives Cal the website and tells him to check it out. Cal checks it out, sees the whole thing as a bit too wacky, but when his apartment manager reminds him he’s gonna be kicked out soon for late payments, Cal contacts the company and immediately receives a 3 month offer. Off to Korea he goes.
Once he arrives in Seoul, an incredibly charming Korean man, Derek, meets him at the airport and helps him get set up in the city. After a few days, Cal receives his first job. But it’s just the sides for his scene. And the other parts are all blacked out. When he arrives on location, in the city, the small filmmaking team assures him that’s their secret sauce. You don’t know what the other person is going to say, which makes your reaction authentic.
Cal’s scene requires that he hold a man up. But he doesn’t get to meet the actor beforehand. That actor is on the street already. Very cinema verite. Cal indeed holds him up. The guy seems genuinely terrified. A great actor, Cal assumes. And then the scene is over. Cal is told to go home. That night, Cal feels like something is off. But he’s in a strange land with zero friends. What can he do about it?
The next scene Cal is asked to perform is much more intense. Cal plays a heavy who has to intimidate a guy into paying. The guy will argue with him, and Cal is told to shoot him. With a fake gun of course. But that shot ends up feeling very real. And now Cal is questioning everything.
Cal confronts Derek who tries to calm him down. He says all of this is on the up and up. But Cal isn’t so sure. So that day, he follows Derek home. He gets to Derek’s place and is able to break in after Derek heads out. What he finds in Derek’s sparse apartment are tons of folders with tons of scripts in them. But one catches his eye. It’s a scene of Cal getting picked up from the airport. But it’s from Derek’s side. Only Derek’s lines. And that’s when Cal realizes Derek is just an actor too. And just as he’s processing that information, Derek walks in. The End.
I can see why this short story sold. It has two things going for it. First, it’s very well written. And second, it has a genuinely intriguing hook.
When I say “well written,” I don’t just mean that the prose is clean and crisp. The writer understands how to pull you into a character quickly. Give us someone we like, then show them struggling.
Cal is an actor who’s trying his best and getting nowhere. He goes into an audition, does a great job, and still doesn’t get the part. What I particularly liked about this scene is how easily the writer could’ve gone with the cliché version of it. The casting director could’ve been some dismissive asshole who barely looked at him. Instead, she’s just a person. She’s busy. She’s hungry. She’s seen a million actors. And Cal actually gets her attention for a few seconds. She likes him. Just not enough.
There’s a nuance to that which immediately tells me I’m dealing with a writer who isn’t automatically reaching for the most obvious version of a scene. Once a reader senses that you’re not going to give them exactly what they expect, they start paying closer attention.
From there, the writer gives Cal a simple, effective problem. His roommate is moving out, he’s already behind on rent, the auditions are drying up, and suddenly he needs money badly. So when this strange acting opportunity comes along, we understand why he takes it. That’s basic storytelling, but it’s basic storytelling done well.
Then we get the second thing the story has going for it: the strange attractor.
We enter this bizarre acting world where Cal is given only his own lines, with everything else in the script blacked out. He doesn’t know what the other actors are going to say. He doesn’t really know what the scenes are about. He doesn’t even know exactly who he’s working for.
That creates mystery. And mystery creates questions. And questions make you turn pages.
I also think the writer understands exactly how long he can play this game. We basically get two major performances: the mugging and the shooting. Had we gotten another 15 pages of Cal being sent out to perform increasingly strange scenes, the device probably would’ve worn thin. Instead, right when we’re ready for an answer, Cal follows Derek home and we get the reveal.
And that reveal is the thing that probably sold the story.
Derek is an actor too. Every “hey buddy,” every reassuring conversation, every gesture, every supposedly spontaneous interaction between him and Cal has been scripted. And suddenly you realize that this may apply to everybody. The director could be an actor. The costume designer could be an actor. Everyone involved may simply be receiving their individual pages, performing their tiny part of some enormous production without having any idea what the production is.
Which leaves us with the big question:
Who’s writing the scripts?
And maybe more importantly, what are they trying to accomplish?
That’s the movie hook.
Now, it’s also where things get tricky. Whoever adapts this is eventually going to have to answer those questions, and coming up with an answer that’s as interesting as the mystery is going to be difficult. But that’s a good problem to have. Because at the short-story stage, you’ve already got the two hardest things taken care of: a character we want to follow and a concept we want explained.
That’s why this works. Good writing gets us into the story. The strange attractor keeps us turning the pages. And the final reveal invites us into a larger world we’re excited to explore.
I always wish these short stories had a little more meat to their endings. But I guess that’s a part of why they sell. They’re using the cliffhanger to make you want to make the movie so we can find out what happens next.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[x] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: I think one of the easiest ways to make the reader instantly care about a protagonist is to show them fail in something that they really want. Writing characters is often about connecting with these universal life experiences people go through. And all of us have failed at things we really wanted. And so when we see someone else go through that, we instantly sympathize with them. Here, we see this guy who really wants an acting job. Just one. JUST ONE. And, once again, despite doing a great job, he doesn’t get it. That’s it. That’s all we need. Now we’re eager to turn the page and see what happens with this guy.
